Page 45

45

NARANU

T he silence is thick, settling over the ruins like a heavy shroud.

The battlefield, once alive with the roar of war, the clash of blades, the screams of the dying, now lies in complete stillness. The acrid scent of scorched earth lingers, mingling with the bitter tang of blood. Stone and ash crumble beneath my boots as I take in the devastation.

Everything is gone.

My people. My warriors. The stronghold that had stood for centuries, built upon the backs of my ancestors, obliterated.

I am the last.

The only survivor of my clan.

A low breath shudders from my chest, though I keep my expression blank, my spine rigid. I will not break. Not here. Not now.

The wind shifts, and behind me, Eryss trembles.

Her magic hums in the air, raw and aching, still charged from the moment she shattered every chain that had bound her. But this isn’t the triumphant kind of power. This is grief.

She stands amidst the wreckage, her arms wrapped around herself, her skin pale beneath the fading glow of the moon. She won the battle, saved me, but the cost…

I step toward her, brushing my fingers against the curve of her shoulder, and she flinches before melting into me. Her arms circle my waist, her body pressing against mine like she’s trying to anchor herself.

Like she’s afraid she’ll fall apart if she lets go.

I tighten my hold, crushing her against me, letting her feel every inch of my presence, my warmth, my strength.

"It's going to be alright," I murmur, the words thick, almost foreign on my tongue.

She shakes her head, her fingers gripping the fabric of my ruined tunic. “Don’t lie to me.”

I pull back, just enough to tip her chin up, forcing her to meet my gaze. Her eyes glisten, glassy with unshed tears. She’s breaking, and it guts me.

"I will never leave you," I swear. My voice is iron, unyielding. “No matter what happens, no matter where we go—you are not alone.”

Her lips part, a strangled sound slipping from her throat. “Promise me.”

I cup her cheek, brushing my thumb along her skin, wiping away the streak of dirt and dried blood. “I promise.”

A broken sound escapes her, and before I can say anything else, she crashes into me, claiming my lips in a desperate kiss.

She kisses me like she’s drowning, like I’m the only thing keeping her afloat. And gods help me, I kiss her back just as fiercely.

Her hands curl into my hair, tugging, pulling me closer, until there’s nothing between us but heat and emotion, until I can taste the sorrow and longing on her tongue.

I back her against the remnants of a fallen column, my hands spanning her waist, gripping tight like she might disappear if I don’t hold on. She’s here. I’m here. And we’re alive.

She shudders into me, her breaths uneven, her fingers curling around my wrist.

We stand there, wrapped in each other, as the ruins smolder behind us.

A movement.

A sound.

A rustling in the distance.

My instincts flare, and I snap my head up, fangs bared. Eryss stiffens against me, her magic already crackling at her fingertips.

The trees shift in the distance, the undergrowth disturbed. We are not alone.

I snarl, already preparing for another fight. Another attack. Another loss.

Suddenly, there’s a voice.

Tentative. Hopeful.

“Warlord?”

I freeze.

More voices rise, hushed whispers rippling through the shadows. Then, slowly, figures step forward from the treeline.

Humans.

At least a dozen of them, some clutching crude weapons, others holding nothing but each other.

Eryss grips my arm. "Who...?"

The oldest among them, a grizzled man with silver threading through his dark beard, steps forward. His eyes sweep over the ruins, over me, over us, before he falls to his knees.

"The gods have heard our prayers," he breathes, pressing his forehead to the dirt. “The Warlord lives.”

The others follow, dropping into low bows, murmuring their gratitude.

Eryss inhales sharply, her grip on me tightening. "They... they prayed for you?"

My own voice falters, something inside me twisting.

"We... stayed away during the war," the older man explains, lifting his gaze to mine. "We saw the fires. Heard the battle. But we are simple people, Warlord. We had no warriors to send. So we prayed. And we waited."

I exhale, my claws flexing. I never expected this.

Another villager, a woman this time, steps forward, clutching the hand of a young boy. “Come back with us,” she says softly. “To the village. You are injured. You need rest.”

Her eyes flick to Eryss, kind, knowing.

"You both do."

Eryss and I stare at each other, the weight of everything crashing down.

We are alone.

Yet—maybe, we aren’t.

She bites her lip, nodding once.

I wrap an arm around her, pulling her to my side, as I look to the villagers, to my people.

"Lead the way," I say, my voice steady.

And as we follow them, I allow myself, to hope for a bright future.